


tides stronger flow

by daisylackers



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Full Game Spoilers, M/M, Mutual Pining, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-09
Updated: 2019-02-09
Packaged: 2019-10-25 06:13:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17719655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daisylackers/pseuds/daisylackers
Summary: Long after the events of Odyssey, after the Peloponnesian War is finally ended, Alexios and Thaletas meet again by accident.





	tides stronger flow

Alexios was lost in thought, staring into the burning flame of a brazier, when a familiar voice reached his ears. It was faint, but unmistakable. And not one he had ever expected to hear again.

Sparta was in a state of glorious triumph. Wine flower like water. Music and song carried on the evening breeze. Blood red banners hung proudly from every wall. Athens had surrendered – too ravaged by disease, starvation and insurrection to hold out any longer. The war was over. Sparta was victorious.

Alexios didn’t share in their elation. Despite his mother’s insistence, despite the citizenship he had regained years earlier, and despite blood shed for his birthplace on the battlefield, he wasn’t one of them. A deep wound might heal, but the scar would always remain. Much as she loved him, Myrinne had never understood that.

Still, he thanked the gods the war was over. The last vestiges of the Cult’s grasp on the world gone with it.

Amidst the celebrations, Alexios had been mulling over what the future might hold when he heard the voice. He looked up at once, eyes darting about the crowd, searching for its owner.

A company of soldiers across the square were being dismissed by their commander. Dressed in polished armour, a plumed helmet tucked under his arm, Thaletas was unmistakable. He was visibly older, but no less handsome. A light dusting of grey graced his temples. An unfamiliar scar cut across his jaw. He addressed his soldiers with the ease of a man used to command. Despite himself Alexios couldn’t help but admire how much it suited him. Thaletas had always wanted to be a great general. It seemed the gods had smiled on him.

Alexios was so busy staring that he forgot there was nothing to stop Thaletas from observing him right back. Then suddenly the man was glancing over, his measured gaze sweeping across the celebrating crowd until it fell onto Alexios, leaning against the wall behind the brazier.

Thaletas startled as though he had seen a ghost. For a long moment he just stared, like he didn’t know whether to trust his own eyes. When at last he turned back to his soldiers, he only dragged his eyes from Alexios at the last possible moment.

Alexios tensed. This was his opportunity. He could slip away and be gone by the time Thaletas looked back. Perhaps the man would think he’d been seeing things after all – the unexpected figure from his past a trick of the firelight.

All Alexios had to do was vanish. Easy enough.

But he didn’t. He remained exactly where he was, until Thaletas had finished dismissing his men. He turned around again, and their eyes met. The next thing he knew Thaletas was striding towards him.

‘Alexios?’ he called out. ‘By Hera, is that you? It can’t be.’

Alexios straightened up, uncrossing his arms. ‘But it is,’ he said. ‘Thaletas. It’s been a long time.’

‘Years,’ agreed Thaletas, coming to stand by the brazier. Up close Alexios could pick out the lines on his face where his brow fell into a natural frown. Thaletas’s breastplate was polished until it gleamed in the firelight – but it was also covered in gouges and dents that told of hard-fought battles. His hand rested absently on the pommel of his sword. Still every inch the Spartan warrior it seemed.

‘By the gods Alexios,’ Thaletas continued. ‘You have barely changed at all.’

‘A little older. Perhaps a little wiser,’ Alexios smiled and shrugged, feigning a casualness he didn’t truly feel. ‘How have the years treated you Thaletas?’

‘They have been hard,’ said Thaletas with surprising honesty. ‘I’m a proud Spartan, but I confess, I’m not sorry to see this war ended. I’ve spilled enough blood to last a hundred lifetimes.’

And yet probably not even half as much as Alexios had spilt in that same time.

‘Greece needs peace now,’ Alexios agreed. ‘A chance to rebuild.’ He gestured expansively to the great effigies of Spartan heroes that overlooked the bustling plaza. ‘And a chance to build new statues. Where do you think they’ll put yours?’

‘Bah. Don’t talk of such things,’ grumbled Thaletas. ‘Ever since I returned I have heard of nothing but what honours are to be bestowed upon me, what glories I have brought Sparta. My wife is out of her head with it all.’

‘Your wife?’ said Alexios, taken aback. ‘You’ve married?’

‘A long time ago,’ said Thaletas. ‘It was my duty as a Spartan.’

Of course it had been. Alexios was a fool to imagine anything else.

‘Well I shouldn’t keep one of Sparta’s heroes,’ said Alexios. He suddenly wished he had slipped away after all. Thaletas was not the same man he’d known all those years ago. He’d moved on with his life – of fucking  _course_  he had, it had been  _years_. ‘No doubt important business awaits you. It was good to see you again my friend. I wish I could talk more but have somewhere I should be…’

Before Alexios could move, Theletas’s hand shot out and grabbed him by the arm – callused fingers wrapping around the soft underside of Alexios’s forearm above his bracer.

‘Alexios…’ Thaletas said, composure slipping. ‘I… the last time we saw each other, on Mykonos. I’ve wished countless times I could go back and unsay those things.’

Alexios hesitated, unsure of what to say. ‘It was a long time ago,’ he settled for lamely. 

‘It was. But I haven’t regretted it any less with the passing of time. I didn’t want to think of you out there in the world, believing that I did not… that I had not…’ Thaletas trailed off.

They stood in silence. Thaletas’s eyes flickered down to where his own hand was still clamped around Alexios’s arm. He let go suddenly as though he’d been scalded.

‘Are you going to watch the games tomorrow?’ said Thaletas lightly, as though they had merely been discussing the weather.

‘I didn’t plan to,’ Alexios said. Which was a lie. He’d considered going to watch the pankration, to enjoy some nostalgia. The games were part of the city’s triumphant celebrations and were sure to be both lavish and violent.

‘Meet me there,’ said Thaletas insistently. ‘I want to see you again. To hear the truth behind the stories that reached me even at the loneliest camps.’

‘You heard stories about me?’ said Alexios in disbelief.

‘About the famous Eagle Bearer?’ said Thaletas, smiling wryly. ‘A great many. Tomorrow Alexios. Please.’

It was probably a bad idea. But that had never stopped Alexios before.

‘Tomorrow then,’ he agreed.

 

…

 

Alexios almost didn’t go. He suddenly felt as though he’d been in Lakonia for too long. He itched for the open sea. Barnabas had long since retired to live a quiet life drinking good wine and complaining about the aching of his bones, but there were ships aplenty in need of crew – and Alexios could pull an oar like an ox if needed.

But he found his feet taking him down towards the games anyway. He sighed and kick at a stray stone as he walked. This was not the first time he’d felt such a gnawing wanderlust. Or was it just an excuse to avoid an awkward meeting with a man he’d slept with a handful of times a very long time ago?

 _It was rather more than that…_  a voice whispered in the back of his head. Alexios stubbornly ignored it.

The games were popular. It seemed all of Sparta had turned out to watch. Thaletas had neglected to tell Alexios exactly  _where_  to meet. It should have been impossible to pick out one man among the heaving crowd. Impossible for anyone except Alexios perhaps.

He found Thaletas watching the javelin. As one of Sparta’s victorious generals he was entitled to one of the best seats, with wine and other delicacies provided. But here he was among the common folk instead, craning to see over their heads.

Alexios weaved through the horde of spectators until he was stood directly behind Thaletas. From here he could see the smattering of dark freckles across the man’s deeply tanned neck. In another time and place, he had kissed them all.

Forcibly smothering the memory, he tapped Thaletas briskly on the shoulder. Thaletas turned sharply.

‘By the gods, I see you’ve lost none of your talent for appearing out of nowhere.’

Alexios grinned. ‘Hardly a difficult task in these crowds,’ he pointed out. ‘Who’s winning?’

They watched the javelin for a while, Thaletas filling Alexios in on the contenders. The noise from the crowd meant he had to lean in close to do so. His warm breath tickled Alexios’s ear. It was… pleasant.

‘The Korinthian will win,’ Thaletas declared confidently as the contest drew to its climax. ‘He has the strongest arm.’

Alexios shook his head. ‘No. The fair-haired Spartan will win. He has been deliberately underplaying his ability.’

Thaletas narrowed his eyes. ‘Or perhaps he just isn’t as good as the Korinthian.’

‘How sure are you?’ Alexios taunted him. ‘Enough to put thirty drachmae on the result?’

‘Gladly,’ said Thaletas at once. ‘It will be a pleasure to take your ill-gotten money.’

Alexios threw back his head and laughed.

The Korinthian threw first. His powerful arm sent the javelin flying swiftly through the air, the best throw yet. Thaletas beat his fist into his palm in satisfaction. ‘Hah!’

The fair-haired Spartan threw last. It was – as Alexios had predicted – a much better throw than any of his previous efforts. The crowd cheered wildly as the javelin struck the ground – barely an inch further than the Korinthian, but further nonetheless.

Thaletas grumbled as he dropped thirty drachmae into Alexios’s open palm.

‘Come, I’ll use my winnings to buy us some wine,’ Alexios said by way of apology, clapping Thaletas on the shoulder.

They left the crowd and wandered the city’s streets in search of a merchant to sell them the wine, and a quiet spot to drink it.

‘I’ve never seen such lavish games before,’ remarked Thaletas, as even more people passed them by on their way to watch the contests.

‘It’s impressive,’ admitted Alexios. ‘But nothing compared to the Olympiad.’

‘You’ve been to the Olympic Games?’ Thaletas said, surprised.

‘And won a laurel wreath for Sparta,’ said Alexios proudly.

‘You  _competed_?’

‘I had to. The champion had been eaten by a shark.’

Thaletas stared at him in disbelief. ‘You’re serious, aren’t you?’ he said. ‘Perhaps some of the stories I heard about you were not so far-fetched after all.’

‘What stories?’ Alexios demanded.

‘I heard that the mighty Eagle Bearer slew a hundred of Sparta’s enemies single-handed on the battlefield. That he sent the most bloodthirsty pirates of the Aegean down to meet Poseidon. I even heard that he killed a traitorous king of Sparta and left the corpse on the road for the vultures to pick over.’

They walked in silence for a moment. ‘I don’t think I ever killed a full hundred,’ said Alexios at last. ‘Not in one battle.’

‘I heard even stranger things than that,’ said Thaletas. ‘Some of the men believed you to be a demigod you know. They said that proved the gods themselves were on Sparta’s side.’ He laughed. ‘And all that time I knew I had…’ he stopped suddenly, a faint flush colouring his cheeks.

 _Fucked the ‘demigod’_ Alexios’s traitorous mind filled in.

Fortunately, the conversation was halted by a merchant selling amphoras of wine. They purchased one, and found a seat overlooking the crowded streets below. A light breeze ruffled the scarlet banners that hung from every public building.

They drank and watched the people moving below, sitting in comfortable silence together. A woman was singing nearby, a rousing song of gods and monsters. Below them a man was doing tumbling tricks to amuse the crowd. The wine was unexpectedly strong stuff. After they had been drinking for a while Alexios was surprised to find he was a little drunk.

‘What a glorious moment in Sparta’s history,’ said Thaletas suddenly, as much to himself as to Alexios. He clenched a triumphant fist. ‘Athens crushed beneath our feet at last. The arrogant philosophers in their marble Akropolis brought low. The gods have indeed smiled upon us.’

Something sharp twisted in Alexios’s wine-filled belly. He thought of his old friends in Athens. Sokrates, Aristophanes – even Alkibiades, fled into exile. He thought of all the innocents who must have starved, fallen to the plague, or been put to the sword. He thought of little Phoebe’s grave.

‘The gods haven’t smiled on Greece for a long time,’ he said bitterly.

‘War is costly,’ Thaletas conceded. ‘But it makes us strong.’

‘Does it?’ said Alexios scornfully. ‘What is strength?  _True_  strength? Nothing more than your sword at somebody else’s throat?’

Thaletas looked over at him pointedly. ‘I would have thought you’d know the meaning of true strength better than anyone.’

‘Oh, so killing people makes you strong?’

‘Being able to fight makes you strong! The strong dominate the weak – that’s the way of the world Alexios. Perhaps it isn’t pretty, or even always just, but it’s the truth.’

Alexios thought of the Cult of Kosmos in their hidden lair, spending other people’s lives like a fat merchant spends drachmae.

‘Then it’s a shit truth,’ he said decisively. ‘All that bloodshed, and for what? The glory of Sparta? Pah.’

Thaletas narrowed his eyes. ‘You should watch what you say. These people have lost fathers, brothers, sons to this war. They’re proud knowing that they gave their lives for something greater than themselves. Something that will live on long after all of us are gone to Hades.’

Alexios snorted derisively. He remembered the glimpses of the future he’d seen in the Cult’s strange pyramid. Whatever Sparta built here and now would fall soon enough. All that death had bought nothing lasting.

Thaletas looked angry at his scorn. ‘Spartans are warriors,’ he said. ‘It’s who we are, it’s in our blood. You would sneer at that?’

‘I’m not sneering!’ Alexios protested. ‘I just don’t see what’s so fucking glorious about this war!’

‘You hypocrite,’ Thaletas shot back – and he definitely  _was_  angry now. ‘You leave a trail of bodies in your wake, and you want to insult me and my men for fighting for honour and glory?’

‘I’m not insulting you Thaletas,’ Alexios ground out. ‘But this war has torn Greece apart, and for nothing. Thousands are dead – men, women, and children - for  _nothing_. Spartans and Athenians. Rich and poor. The strong and the weak. All used as puppets by those who lurk in the shadows. Tell me, what is honourable about any of that?’

‘What does a mercenary know of it?’ Thaletas snapped. ‘You don’t fight for honour, or glory, or the gods. You fight for drachmae. You are  _bought_ Alexios. Like cheap wine!’ With a sweep of his hand he knocked over the amphora, and what remained of the wine began to trickle across the ground.

They glared angrily at each other. Thaletas’s face was flushed, either from temper or the wine. Alexios felt his own blood running hot. How  _dare_  he? Alexios had fought not just for honour and glory, but for revenge, for justice – for all Greece. He had given  _everything_.

He bit down on a cruel reply, as well as the urge to smash the amphora to pieces. The old Alexios would have seen the argument through to the bitter end – until it came to blows even. But now – older and if not wiser, then certainly more weary – he just wanted to leave.

Without another word, he rose to his feet and began to walk away.

‘Alexios!’ he heard Thaletas shout after him. ‘Alexios, come back here!’

It was an imperious command, given with all the authority of a general. Alexios ignored it. He was dimly aware that Thaletas was following him now, still calling out his name. Alexios turned a sharp corner, and instead of carrying on down the street he swiftly hauled himself up and over the wall to his right. He landed in a quiet garden, and from there it was a simple thing to duck through a narrow vestibule and out into a different street entirely.

To Thaletas, it should have appeared as though Alexios had vanished from his life as abruptly as he’d materialized back into it.

‘You fucking imbecile Alexios,’ he cursed himself as he hurried away. ‘Sentimental fool.’

Tomorrow he would ride north. Or perhaps south, to try and find a ship. Either way, it was time to leave Sparta.

 

…

 

Myrinne was not at home when Alexios returned. She had a lover, although she rarely spoke about him. Kassandra had been gone for months, as was her habit. Once she had disappeared for an entire year. She never said where she went, and Alexios never asked her.

The evening drew in, and Alexios realized his mother was spending the night elsewhere. He laid the fire and ate a simple supper. He could hear the city still raucously celebrating in the distance. There was something comforting about the muted sounds of laughter and merry-making. There would be little enough of that once he left.

Where would he go? Athens perhaps. The gods alone knew there would be plenty of work for a mercenary there. Or maybe Pephka.

Or perhaps he’d go home to Kephallonia. An indulgent smile tugged at his mouth as he imagined it. If Alexios closed his eyes he could imagine walking the peaceful groves and beaches again. Could smell the sea salt on the breeze, and the woodsmoke from the timber camp. Or he could visit Kos, see Markos. He wondered if the old fool still had that vineyard or if he’d fallen into some other idiotic scheme.

He was lost in thought when a sudden hammering at the door jolted him out of it. At once he was up on his feet, grabbing the broken spear from the table. He wrenched the door open.

Thaletas was on the other side. Alexios very nearly slammed the door in his face.

As if sensing the impulse, Thaletas wasted no time in bracing his shoulder against the door and muscling forward to block the doorway.

‘How in the name of Hades did you find me? Alexios demanded.

‘I asked around,’ Thaletas said simply. ‘You are King Leonidas’s  _grandson_?’

‘What of it?’

‘Your life is  _absurd_  Alexios. Let me in.’

Alexios cursed under his breath, but he relented and stood aside to let Thaletas enter, closing the door loudly behind him. ‘What do you want?’ he said bluntly.

‘I just… by the gods Alexios, I couldn’t leave things between us like that again,’ Thaletas paced restlessly across the floor. ‘What I said…’

‘You don’t owe me any apologies Thaletas,’ Alexios said wearily. ‘We’re strangers to each other.’

Thaletas grimaced. ‘We weren’t once,’ he said.

‘A long time ago,’ Alexios pointed out. ‘It’s late. Go home to your wife. She must be wondering where her husband is at this hour.’

Thaletas didn’t move to leave. Instead he sank down in front of the dying fire. With a sigh Alexios threw some more wood on to revive the flames. Thaletas’s polished armour gleamed dully in the firelight.

‘I don’t love her,’ Thaletas said at last. He wasn’t looking up at Alexios. Instead he stared into the heart of the fire. ‘She doesn’t love me either. The man she truly loved was killed in the war. Ours is a marriage of convenience, and we both know it. She’s a good Spartan woman, with a fierce soul. But she isn’t Kyra. She isn’t you.’

Alexios said nothing, bowing his head. For a while they stayed silent.

‘Do you think she found peace?’ Thaletas said. They both knew he was talking about Kyra.

Alexios sat down opposite him, on the other side of the fire. It crackled as the fresh wood caught. ‘I don’t know,’ he said truthfully. ‘I hope so.’

‘She was like Artemis herself,’ said Thaletas forlornly. ‘Wild and dangerous.’ He hung his head. ‘It was my fault she threw herself from the cliff.’

‘It wasn’t,’ said Alexios firmly.

‘Of course it was! All our plans for what we would do if we overthrew Podarkes! I was going to stay and marry her. And then you arrived… and suddenly I was leaving her and going back to Sparta. I blamed you, but only because I couldn’t face the truth. I betrayed her.’

‘No. She killed herself because Podarkes’s death didn’t bring her the peace she yearned for. Because it didn’t bring her mother back or take Kyra’s pain away. If it’s anyone’s fault, it  _is_  mine. I was there with her. If I had chosen my words better…’

Thaletas laughed quietly and shook his head. ‘Do you know what she would say if she could see us now? She would rage at us for talking as if she had no mind of her own.’

Alexios huffed a quiet laugh of his own. He could so easily picture Kyra doing just that. ‘Yes, she probably would,’ he agreed.

‘I almost miss those times,’ said Thaletas. ‘Life seemed simple then. I knew who my enemies were. I knew what was right. Or I thought I did. Bah.’ He threw his hands up. ‘Life wasn’t simpler. _I_ was simpler. Young and naive.’

‘We all were,’ Alexios chided. ‘But we learned quickly.’

‘We did indeed,’ agreed Thaletas. ‘War is a harsh teacher, but an effective one. You learn or you die. Still. There’s something to be said for being young and naïve. It weighs on you less.’

‘I know what you mean,’ said Alexios quietly, thinking of the years he’d spent on Kephallonia – dodging the Cyclops, living on his wits, rescuing Markos from whatever fresh trouble he’d gotten himself into. Some days he had almost been able to forget Mount Taygetos, to pretend he’d always lived on Kephallonia. Those had been good days.

‘I remember everything about the Silver Islands,’ said Thaletas wistfully. ‘Like it happened yesterday. Do you remember that trail of flowers I left for you?’

‘I do,’ murmured Alexios. He couldn’t help but smile at the memory.

‘Such romance. And then what do I demand you do? Fight me! Aphrodite must have turned away in disgust.’

Alexios chuckled. ‘It was very… Spartan of you.’

Thaletas looked up and fixed Alexios with a soft gaze. ‘You look exactly the same,’ he said. ‘I could almost imagine it was that night.’

Alexios smiled broadly. ‘Oh? Are you going to demand I fight you again?’

Thaletas grinned. ‘Perhaps I might win this time.’

‘Hah,’ Alexios pulled his broken spear from his belt, twirling it theatrically in his hand until the tip pointed at Thaletas. ‘You would lose again.’

‘Don’t be so sure,’ Thaletas chided him. ‘I might be older, but I’ve learned a thing or two over the years.’

‘Oh, have you?’ said Alexios, arching a deliberately sceptical eyebrow. ‘Such as…?

‘I’m hardly going to  _tell_  you Alexios,’ said Thaletas, his eyes glittering in the firelight. The mood in the room had shifted rapidly, and Alexios felt a sudden heated interest stir within him. ‘These things really require a more  _practical_  demonstration.’

‘Well then,’ said Alexios, rising to his feet. He made a great show of rolling out his shoulders, one by one. ‘Who am I to refuse such an offer from General Thaletas, hero of Sparta?’

Thaletas snorted and stood up. ‘Who knows, maybe I could teach even you a thing or two.’ He slowly and suggestively looked Alexios up and down, completely unabashed.

This was a stupid idea. Although their time together had been short, Thaletas had not been a casual liaison. Alexios had loved him, and it had taken a long time for the pain of their sour parting to ease. Some things were better left in the past.

But, as Thaletas himself had said, you could almost imagine it was that night. The dull firelight hid the creeping silver in Thaletas’s hair, and the fine lines on his face. The years fell away, and Alexios found he was feeling supremely young and foolish again.

He tilted his head to the side and let his gaze slide appreciatively across Thaletas’s form. The years might have put grey in his hair, but his body was as lean and muscled as Alexios remembered. And he remembered it well.

‘Or perhaps I might teach you something,’ he teased.

Thaletas stepped closer, Alexios mirroring him, until they were stood mere inches apart. Unlike Alexios, who had changed into a simple tunic, Thaletas was still in full armour. Alexios reached out and flattened his palm across the bronze breastplate, before hooking his fingers into the leather straps. He tugged Thaletas forward, and felt warm hands settle on his waist.

‘Alexios…’ Thaletas breathed, before kissing him passionately.

Alexios didn’t hesitate to reciprocate. He dropped the spear, only dimly aware of the faint clatter as it hit the floor. Hand now free, he placed it in the small of Thaletas’s back and drew him closer still.

 

…

 

Hours later, in the dead of the night, Alexios extracted himself from the heavy arm slung loosely around his waist. He pulled his tunic back on and crept up to the roof. The air was brisk and cool. The celebrations were finally over, and the city was peaceful. Overhead the sky was filled with stars, and a low full moon cast a gentle glow over the sprawl of Sparta. Alexios mumbled a quiet prayer to Selene, imagining her in her magnificent chariot, charging across the night’s sky.

Some time later he heard the soft barefoot tread as Thaletas came up to join him. He sat down next to Alexios, their thighs pressed close. Alexios knocked their knees together playfully.

‘What will men like us do, now the war is over?’ said Thaletas. ‘It feels as though I’ve spent my entire life fighting Athenians.’

Alexios shrugged. ‘Sparta will always need soldiers. And a good mercenary can always find someone willing to pay for their services.’

‘Perhaps,’ said Thaletas, sounding unconvinced. He took a deep lungful of the night air. ‘Maybe you were right after all. Maybe the war was for nothing. I’ve tasted some sweet victories. But I’ve also seen things that made me want to damn all mankind to the pits of Tartarus. The bodies of women and children lying at the roadside, tossed aside like waste – the vultures picking at their eyes and the looters picking at their pockets. They don’t write epics poems or sing glorious songs about that.’

‘No, they don’t,’ agreed Alexios. ‘The songs are for the young and the foolish. We might be fools, but we’re not young anymore.’

‘I’m not young anymore,’ said Thaletas. He looked sidelong at Alexios, a carefully inscrutable expression on his face. ‘But you are. You have not aged a day Alexios. Not one day.’

Alexios stared at him. ‘Of course I have!’ he said at last, trying to laugh it off. ‘Your eyes are failing you Thaletas.’

‘My eyes are as sharp as ever. At first I thought you had been far luckier than most who live the hard life we do. But now than I’ve seen  _all_  of you, I’m certain. You are just as you were on Mykonos.’

Alexios didn’t know what to say. He hesitated, searching for the right words to convince Thaletas that he was wrong. Then he saw the vindicated glint in Thaletas’s eyes and realized his hesitation had been damning enough on its own.

‘Is it sorcery?’ Thaletas pressed him insistently. ‘Or are you truly the demi-god they say you are?’

Alexios sighed, leaning back to look up at the night. A shooting star arced across the sky and burnt out within seconds.

‘Sorcery,’ he said at last. ‘Don’t ask me how it works, I don’t know.’ The staff of Hermes Trismegistus was hidden away somewhere safe. Alexios had expected the thing to relinquish him once it wasn’t in his direct possession anymore. But it had not.

‘Sorcery…’ said Thaletas. He followed Alexios’s gaze, looking upwards at the great expanse of stars above them. ‘If it were anyone else, I wouldn’t believe them. Anyone else and I’d think I was going mad to even imagine it. But you…’

‘Believe me,’ said Alexios. ‘I’ve seen far stranger things.’

‘The gods play games with us all,’ Thaletas said.

‘They certainly do,’ Alexios agreed wholeheartedly. With him in particular. He wished they would turn their attention to some other poor soul for a while.

Thaletas reached out and clasped his hand around Alexios’s wrist. ‘I meant what I said. I spent a long time regretting those last words I said to you on Mykonos. I prayed to the gods that I would see you again, so that I could tell you…’ he paused, and his fingers tightened around Alexios’s wrist before he continued. ‘… that I still loved you. But then the years went by, and the gods never answered my prayers. I had other lovers. But I never forgot you Alexios. When I saw you yesterday, I almost believed I was dreaming.’

The sincere words touched Alexios’s heart. He pulled his wrist back so that his hand slid into Thaletas’s. Both men had roughened palms and fingers – callused and weathered by hard lives. A deep groove curved underneath Thaletas’s knuckled, where he’d been cut deep once upon a time. Alexios ran his thumb gently across it.

‘I thought about you too,’ he said quietly. ‘Wondered where in the world you were. What you were doing. I prayed to the gods that you would find the glory you wanted.’

‘I thought you didn’t think much of glory.’

Alexios smiled. ‘Oh, I used to think a lot of it.’ He had revelled in it. The crowd in the great Arena calling his name. The thrill of slaying some great and terrible beast. The indescribable rush of victory, where he’d felt as though he could take on the whole world at once. Glory was a drug every bit as addictive as the poppy milk from the east.

‘Will you say in Sparta?’ Thaletas asked suddenly.

Alexios frowned. ‘I was going to leave,’ he admitted. ‘I thought I might go back to Kephallonia for a while.’

‘You should stay,’ said Thaletas firmly. ‘I’m not done with you yet.’

Alexios couldn’t help the laugh that erupted from him. ‘Not done with me yet?’ he teased Thaletas. ‘Whatever do you mean?’

Thaletas leaned forward so that his face was mere inches away from Alexios’s own. ‘What do you imagine I mean?’

Alexios kissed him hungrily. Thaletas slid one hand into Alexios’s hair, grasping roughly, holding him still.

‘Perhaps I will stay,’ said Alexios when they finally broke apart, both breathing heavily. He felt hot with desire. This was foolishness, but what worth having in life wasn’t? The world was a violent, uncertain place. If Alexios had learned one thing, he’d learned to take happiness when it was offered to you.

With one final glance up at the stars, he dragged Thaletas to his feet and led him back down into the warmth and privacy of the house below.

**Author's Note:**

> I tell you what, the name 'Thaletas' does not flow easily when you're touch typing.


End file.
